A Good Night for a Homecoming

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It was a good night for a high school homecoming game. It seemed more than a bit surreal to be at Beech High School on their homecoming night, but you couldn’t ask for better weather.

The home team won. Barely. The game was probably more suspenseful than it needed to be, as the Beech Buccaneers kept letting Gallatin back in the game. All that matters in the end is that the home team won and lots of good memories got made.

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I was purely a spectator. I didn’t know anyone at the game save for the handful of folks from my community group. I was feeling a bit weary and disconnected, so I did my fair share of wandering alone through the masses there to celebrate one of the truly great and time-honored rites of passage still left sacred in our society.

I was a bit saddened by the regret of one blog I wrote about a friend some months ago that caused a strain on our friendship. I’ve since deleted the post, but it’s still not the same as it was (and may never again be). If I could go back in time, I’d tell myself not to write that blog. It’s one thing I wish everyday that I could go back and undo.

But enough of that. I got over it. I saw a very strange but creative halftime show by the Beech High School marching band. Apparently, it was themed around the M. Night Shyamalan movie Signs, but all I saw were little green men and women scurrying around a fake cornfield and playing eerie movie music. Kudos for creativity, but not so much for making sense.

I made a new friend (Rachel), had some very salty Powerade, witnessed a great game, and hung out with some amazing people called the Green Hills Community Group.

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It’s funny how at times I remembered exactly how I felt as a 17-year old during my high school homecoming game. All the uncertainty, fear, doubts, insecurities, and joys came rushing back. But I saw it all through (hopefully) wiser 41-year old eyes.

I hope to do the high school homecoming game thing again, but hopefully not after putting in 40 hours of work in 4 days and hopefully more rested.

God is just as good to me at 41 as He was when I was 17. It’s nice to know some things never change. Even when I’m 64, that same God will be with me and for me and love me just the same He did when I was in high school and like He does now.

Storms Revisited

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“Never dread any consequence resulting from absolute obedience to His command. Never fear the rough waters ahead, which through their proud contempt impede your progress. God is greater than the roar of raging water and the mighty waves of the sea. ‘The Lord sits enthroned as King forever’ (Psalm 29:10). A storm is simply the hem of His robe, the sign of His coming, and the evidence of His presence.” (F. B. Meyer)

Wow. I never thought of storms that way. Either literally or figuratively.

I always thought of God going before the storm, being with me during the storm, and waiting for me after the storm. I never thought of the storm itself being a sign of His presence.

I’m wondering something else. Whenever I picture a storm, I see grieving parents hovering over the coffin of their dead child or a father holding foreclosure papers in his trembling hands. But maybe storms come in less noticeable ways.

Could a storm be that dull dread day after day that never seems to depart? Could a storm be the rut you’ve been stuck in for years that never seems to alter or change?

Some storms come and wipe off the land. Some come and go with no evidence they were ever there. But they are felt just the same.

Storms end. Dark clouds give way to sunshine. The waters eventually subside. Yet God remains.

I had some grand way I was going to tie all this together so that you would think me ever so wise, but it never materialized. All I know is that for every storm that comes, God is just as present. And He’ll still be there after the storm leaves.

These are not the most profound words I’ve ever written, but maybe someone out there who is holding on for dear life or merely dreading the monotony of the next day, these words will be something to cling to. I don’t know.

I know God is bigger than any storm. He still speaks and the winds and waves still have to obey. That’s all I know for now.

Kingdom of God, Here and Now

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“If we only had eyes to see and ears to hear and wits to understand, we would know that the Kingdom of God in the sense of holiness, goodness, beauty is as close as breathing and is crying out to born both within ourselves and within the world; we would know that the Kingdom of God is what we all of us hunger for above all other things even when we don’t know its name or realize that it’s what we’re starving to death for. The Kingdom of God is where our best dreams come from and our truest prayers. We glimpse it at those moments when we find ourselves being better than we are and wiser than we know. We catch sight of it when at some moment of crisis a strength seems to come to us that is greater than our own strength. The Kingdom of God is where we belong. It is home, and whether we realize it or not, I think we are all of us homesick for it” (Frederick Buechner).

The Kingdom of God is here and not here at the same time.

It’s not here because there is still so much evil and injustice in the world. Seemingly bad people prosper and seemingly good people suffer.

It’s here because we’re here. The Kingdom of God is the rule of God in the people of God and it is breaking through.

If we’re truly citizens of the Kingdom of God, that trumps nationality and politics. We don’t have a flag and a President so much as we have a King and a Kingdom.

If we’re truly citizens of this Kingdom, then it should show in the way we live.

We should date differently, work differently, and play differently.

We should have Kingdom friendships, Kingdom marriages, Kingdom families, and Kingdom purposes. What does that mean?

It means your marriage is more than a perfect you and a perfect spouse in a perfect setting. It’s about serving together in a way that you never could apart and alone. It’s about two people whose love for each other testifies to how much Christ loves His Bride, the Church.

It means you love those who aren’t easy to love. You serve those who can never repay you. You forgive and bless those who hurt you because God forgave and blessed you when you had been His enemies and hurt Him deeply.

It means you are God’s living Word to the word. That when someone sees the way you live, they see what you truly believe, whether that harmonizes or conflicts with what you say you believe.

It means of all people, we should be the most joyful, the most hopeful, the most optimistic people. Not because we have no sorrow or pain, but because we’ve been shown the Last Page of the Great Story and we know it ends happily ever after. We know every tear, scar, wound, and loss has been worth it when we see Jesus and we’re finally healed and whole and just like Him.

Lord, forgive me. So often, I am petty and vindictive and self-centered. Help me to not think less of myself, but think of myself less and be concerned with people seeing Jesus in me.

Lord, may Your Kingdom come in its fullness. May You have free reign in me from this moment on. Amen.

An Evening Prayer on the Last Day of August

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“O God, I thank You for this day of life
for eyes to see the sky
for ears to hear the birds
for feet to walk amidst the trees
for hands to pick the flowers from the earth
for a sense of smell to breathe in the sweet
perfumes of nature
for a mind to think about and appreciate
the magic of everyday miracles
for a spirit to swell in joy at Your mighty presence
everywhere” (Marian Wright Edelman)

Thank you, God, that you woke me up this morning and gave me good health and a body capable of enjoying your creation in all of its splendors.

Thank you for another day or grace and forgiveness and peace and joy.

Thank you that You don’t treat me a I deserve or according to my manifold sins and weaknesses, for I could never then hope to even catch a glimpse of Your face.

But now I see it everywhere.

In the last blooms of the last flowers before the autumn chill sets in.

In the laughter of old friends gathered together.

In the gentle breeze that blows where and when it wills.

In Van Morrison singing about Tupelo Honey in the airwaves above my head.

In the pink remains of yet another artful sunset.

In my own contented and peaceful heart.

Thank you for being here with me and being everything I need in this moment.

“Dear Lord,
be good to me…
The sea is so wide
and my boat is so small.” (Irish Fisherman’s Prayer)

“Lord, I don’t ask for a faith
that would move yonder mountain.
I can take enough dynamite and move
it if it needs movin’. I pray, Lord,
for enough faith to move me” (Norman Allen).

Thank you, Chris

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“God of love,
we thank you that Chris is in your gentle and loving hands,
far from the cruelty, violence and pain of our world.
When the trouble was near,
we could not understand how you seemed
to remain far away.
And yet it is to you we turn;
for in life and death
it is you alone whom we can trust,
and yours alone is the love that holds us fast.
We find it hard to forgive the deed
that has brought us so much grief.
But we know that, if life is soured by bitterness,
an unforgiving spirit brings no peace.
Lord, save us and help us.
Strengthen in us the faith and hope that Chris
is freed from the past with all its hurt,
and rests for ever in the calm security of your love,
in Jesus Christ our Lord.
All
Amen.”

Thank you, Chris.

Thank you for being a good son, husband, and father.

Thank you for leaving behind a legacy of undying love and unquenchable faith.

Thank you for inspiring me with the way you lived out your faith even in dying, to the very last moments when Jesus called you home.

Thank you for your words of encouragement to me and thinking of me when what you were going through was a million times worse than anything I’ve faced.

You’ve inspired me to be kinder and more patient with those in my life.

You’ve reminded me to hug my friends and family as often as I can and to say, “I love you” whenever I get the chance.

You’ve compelled me to not take tomorrow for granted, but to seek forgiveness and reconciliation today while there is still time.

I and so many others are better people and more in loved with Jesus for having known you.

I know at this moment Jesus has you tightly gripped in a great big ol’ bear hug as He whispers in your ear, “Well done, my good and faithful servant. Attaboy, Chris!”

Thank you, Chris.

” I know your life
On earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren’t afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain

Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and Son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
I wish I could see the angels faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing

Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and Son” (Vince Gill)

A Seat at the Table

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“He went on to tell a story to the guests around the table. Noticing how each had tried to elbow into the place of honor, he said, ‘When someone invites you to dinner, don’t take the place of honor. Somebody more important than you might have been invited by the host. Then he’ll come and call out in front of everybody, ‘You’re in the wrong place. The place of honor belongs to this man.’ Red-faced, you’ll have to make your way to the very last table, the only place left.

“‘When you’re invited to dinner, go and sit at the last place. Then when the host comes he may very well say, ‘Friend, come up to the front.’ That will give the dinner guests something to talk about! What I’m saying is, If you walk around with your nose in the air, you’re going to end up flat on your face. But if you’re content to be simply yourself, you will become more than yourself.”

“Then he turned to the host. ‘The next time you put on a dinner, don’t just invite your friends and family and rich neighbors, the kind of people who will return the favor. Invite some people who never get invited out, the misfits from the wrong side of the tracks. You’ll be—and experience—a blessing. They won’t be able to return the favor, but the favor will be returned—oh, how it will be returned!—at the resurrection of God’s people.'” (Luke 14:7-14).

I’ve observed in a few Nashville churches that the “holier than thou” club has been mostly replace by the “hipper than thou” crew. There are a few telltale signs. 1) Their pastor and/or worship leader(s) wear skinny jeans. 2) The church building doesn’t look anything like a church building. 3) The worship songs are the latest and newest songs that haven’t even hit the radio yet.

To be fair, I’ve had my share of “hipper than thou” moments, as well as “holier than thou.” I’ve caught myself a few times comparing myself with others and detected more than a little pride in my pop culture knowledge and vast and educated musical tastes.

The fact is, anyone could look at me sitting in a seat at Kairos or in a church pew and rightfully ask, “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here.”

It’s true. I’ve done stupid things. I’ve said and typed much that I regret. I’ve had such thoughts that I truly hope I never run into a mind reader who can read my past thoughts. That would be tragic and awkward.

The fact is that in the Kingdom of Heaven, no one belongs and everyone belongs.

No one deserves to be there. I certainly don’t. Everyone has sinned and sin brings death to everyone every single time (to paraphrase my pastor Mike Glenn). The only reason anyone gets in is grace.

Because of grace, everyone can get in. The door is open. The invitations are sent. Everyone is welcome and no one who wants to get in will be left out.

In my opinion, there’s no such things as bad or good Christians. There are only sinners saved by grace. I love Thomas Merton’s definition of a saint– not someone who is good, but someone who has seen the goodness of God.

Don’t think you’re so very wise and holy that you get the best seats in the house. You’ll find yourself getting knocked down a few rungs on that old ladder. Remember Jesus, who didn’t consider anything or anyone beneath Him, but lowered himself to the position of a slave and didn’t think that death on a cross was too scandalous or too much of a sacrifice to get you and me into His kingdom.

If you’ve accepted the invitation, Just be thankful you’re in. And if you’re still undecided, remember there’s always room for one more– you.

A Good Weekend

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As I stepped into my car to head home from a Sunday School class party, I could hear the hypnotic drone of cicadas and felt 10-years old again and ready for the next big adventure. That’s what life really is. At least for those who have their eyes open to appreciate the mystery and wonder in each gift God unwraps daily called life.

I still fondly remember running through the streets of downtown Nashville with my friend Katie to catch the next act at Live on the Green, Michael Franti. It was a moment I never imagined happening, yet if you were to ask what my all-time favorite moment was, this one would be climbing the charts. And no Gatorade ever tasted better than the ones from the Exxon convenience store on the way home.

How can I forget an impromptu Starbucks session of great conversation and good coffee drinks? I can’t remember two hours flying by that fast. It was yet another in a long line of unexpected treasures and blessings God has showered on me lately.

I remember Friday and Saturday in downtown Franklin, seeing some of my favorite McCreary’s people and savoring yet another beautiful summer night visiting my usual haunts and trekking my familiar path up and down Main Street. I especially recall how quiet it was in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church as I sat silent and still and expectant, waiting on a Word from God.

I finally fell asleep at 4:30 this morning after another night of tossing and turning. I think I’ll sleep better tonight. At least I hope I do. But even that time awake gave me time to reflect on all the little gifts that eucharisteo had opened my eyes to see.

I remember something my Sunday School teacher Derek Webster said. He said, “God believes in you even more than you do.”

I have to write that down somewhere. Oh yeah, I guess I just did. But I need it in a place where I can find it and see it every morning, because I know some mornings I’ll wake up and not be as excited to be alive. Those old self-doubts will creep in. The enemy will whisper, “See? Nobody really cares about you. No one would notice if you weren’t around. You don’t make one bit of difference to anybody.”

That’s when this Truth of God comes in. God says differently. To me. To you. To anyone who heard and followed the voice of Jesus. God said you do matter because I made you. Jesus said you matter because I thought you were to die for. You have a gift and a purpose that no one else ever in the history of mankind has ever had. Only you can play the part God wrote for you in the Great Romance He’s written out in history.

You being you makes God smile. You being who God created you is what the world around you needs to see more than any Billy Graham or Mother Teresa. You coming alive to your gifts and talents will be the ripple in the ocean whose effects will last far beyond your own lifetime.

Yep. All that from four days in August.

Bittersweet Memories, Regrets, and Grace

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Today, I found out that a friend of mine who has cancer is in ICU. He’s septic and may not make it through the night. And if I’m honest, I didn’t really know him in high school. Or at least I don’t remember much about him. I regret that.

Lately, he’s been one of my biggest encouragers, even though what he’s going through is a million times worse than anything I’ve ever faced. I’m praying for one more miracle.

I find myself missing my childhood best friend Nathan. I miss my Grandmother Iris and my Granddaddy Bud. I miss both Uncle Bob and Uncle Monty. I even miss my high school homeroom teacher.

I have lots of unspoken words I wish I had spoken and a lot of unfulfilled promises I intended to keep but didn’t.

I can never go back and tell these people what they meant to me. I can never see their faces and hear their funny stories and hear tales of a legacy of faith that’s been passed down. I can never ask those questions that I thought I would have time to get around to.

But grace means that I still have a chance to set that right. I can say those words to the people who are still in my life. I can make good on promises I made to family and friends in honor and memory of those whom I’ve lost and miss still.

Don’t presume that you’ll have tomorrow to say your “I love you”s. Don’t think that anybody whom you love is guaranteed a tomorrow. Whatever you need to say or do, today is the day.

I’ve said before that when you take things and people for granted, what you’re granted gets taken. And I’ve asked the question before: “If God only let you keep what you thanked Him for and were grateful for verbally, what would you have left? Who would you have left?”

There’s an insidious kind of casualness to relationships these days. Maybe it’s because of people having 5,000 friends on facebook. Maybe it’s because no one thinks they’re really and truly mortal. But once someone is gone from your life, you can never rewind the tape. You can never skip back to the last scene. You can only live with those unspoken words and unfulfilled promises.

I know this is not one of my usual frivolous and witty posts. But sitting in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church with tears rolling down my face, I was reminded that sometimes I need a wake-up call. I need to be reminded that life is precious and people are more precious. Right now, have one purring cat in my lap that I must attend to, so I bid you all adieu and a good night.

A Kairos Greeter Prayer

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“I want the last face you see in this world to be the face of love, so you look at me when they do this thing. I’ll be the face of love for you” (Sister Helen Prejean, Dead Man Walking).

Lord,

I’m just one person. There are so many hurting and lost people who feel like nobody sees them. There are so many crying out for someone to notice them in their pain and anguish. Some will be here tonight for Kairos. Some will bring their profound brokenness, their wrist scars, their needle marks, their shattered dreams, their dashed hopes.

Help the first face they see in mine to be the face of Love. For some, it could be the last face they see, and may they leave this world knowing they saw at least one face filled with Your lovingkindness.

Help them to not see Greg Johnson, but Jesus Christ. May it be His smile they see and His words they hear and His hope they receive.

Let Your joy be in me and let it overflow to those who walk by. May your peace radiate outward from me in tangible waves to those who are in bondage to fear and doubt and anxiety. May You be everything in that moment and may I be nothing but a vessel for You to love Your people through.

I can’t touch every single hurting person, but I can be Jesus to just one. I can love the person in front of me. I can show grace to the next person who walks by my door.

Most of all, may they not remember me or Michael Boggs and the worship team or Mike Glenn (or whoever else happens to be teaching that night). If they don’t remember any of the lyrics to any of the songs or anything of the message, may they walk away knowing they have met with You, the Almighty Creator and King of the Universe as well as the Abba Father and Counter of the Lowliest Sparrow.

And may they never be the same again.

Amen.

Choosing to Take That Next First Step

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“I am not going to sit on my ass as the events that affect me unfold to determine the course of my life. I’m going to take a stand. I’m going to defend it. Right or wrong, I’m going to defend it” (Cameron Frye, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off)

Sometimes, life is about choosing to participate. I know for years I was a passive observer of all that went on around me until I finally got sick and tired of always feeling left out of things. Then I decided to take one of many first steps. 

Part of taking that almighty first step is letting go of the illusion that you can control the outcome– or anything for that matter. In a dance, you have to learn to trust in your partner and in yourself, but ultimately, you have to step out and hope for the best.

First steps involve stepping out of your comfort zone and what’s familiar into the unknown. It’s asking that girl for a date. It’s applying for that job. It’s moving across the country to start over. It’s stepping all over your pride to confess a wrong that may or may not end a friendship.

The funny thing about first steps is that there’s never just one. Life is full of many first steps. In fact, you’ll never get to the place where you’ve taken your last first step.

You know what I said about letting go of the illusion that you’re in control? Well, part of that means embracing the control of the One who is. I like what I heard someone say: you don’t make Jesus Lord of anything as much as you acknowledge that He’s already Lord of everything. That includes those next steps. That includes all the potential outcomes in your life. That includes you.

There is no greater freedom than surrendering your life to Jesus. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. Only Jesus knows the real you, even more than you know your own self. And He knows what’s best for you. I can say that I’ve learned the hard way many times over that I do not know better than God what I need. Thankfully, He’s a very patient teacher who still continues to remind me by withholding the good that I think I need for the best that He knows I need.

You never know how much one tiny step can affect. My life has been altered and revolutionized by people who will probably never know how much what they did meant to me. And you will probably never know the transforming effect that one tiny random act of kindness or small step of obedience could mean to another.

What you do (or don’t do) affects more than you. You may step out and fall on your face and the world won’t be any worse for it. But no one who did anything great or who made a difference did so by standing still. The world is waiting for people not to turn it upside-down, but to turn it right-side-up again.